


Touching Stars

by wuxxia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuxxia/pseuds/wuxxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three years since the Ark crashed into the Earth, killing almost everyone aboard.  Three years of tentative peace with the Grounders, bought with Anya's help and Finn's death.  With winter on its way, rations are smaller than ever and Clarke is stretching herself too thin.  But she has no idea that everything is about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching Stars

_Can you lie next to her, and give her your heart_

_as well as your body?_

The sky was purple and hazy with twilight by the time Bellamy took Clarke her dinner.  As far as he knew, she had spent most of the day playing midwife to Taila, a proud honey-skinned girl who still refused to name her child’s father.  Although the baby was born squalling and healthy late that afternoon, Bellamy still hadn’t heard from Clarke. This week had been particularly bad at their makeshift clinic, which meant days upon days of Clarke stretching herself too thin, never taking the time to eat or sleep properly. He was starting to worry about her.

To his surprise, the dropship seemed empty.  He walked around for a moment, setting the food down and calling out, “Clarke?”  There was no answer but the tinny sound of his own footsteps, still comforting even after three years on the Ground.  Bellamy was about to check the hatch when he noticed her, tucked away in a corner where she slumped against the wall.  Clarke was fast asleep, her head lulling on her right shoulder, mouth agape.  Bellamy smirked.

“Hey,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. “Come on, rise’n shine.”

Clarke stirred and pulled her jacket, which she had been using as a sad excuse for a blanket, up over her face. “Nooooo,” she moaned, batting at his hand.  “’m comfy,” she insisted.

“ _Right_ ,” Bellamy sighed and rolled his eyes.  Without another word, he scooped her up, cradling her head against his chest like a child.  She felt surprisingly solid in his arms, but soft too.   He watched her sleeping face in the flickering orange of a dozen campfires as he carried her back to her tent.

Putting Clarke to bed set him into an autopilot of old habits.  He lay her down carefully on the cot, making sure not to get his hand caught in her hair when he pulled away; he unlaced her boots and pulled them off, placing them neatly on the floor near her sketchpad and pencils.  The blue cotton blanket he covered her with was her favorite, he knew, one of the best ones from the stock they’d found together at the bunker.  It seemed like forever ago.

“Sweet dreams, Princess,” he whispered, smoothing her ruffled hair out of her face.  He was about to leave when Clarke grabbed his hand with chilly fingers.

“Wait,” she said, pausing for a long moment.  “Stay.  You’re warm.”  Her eyes were still closed and her voice had that sleepy, gritty quality.  It was sexy as hell.

Bellamy felt his face flush.  “Clarke,” he protested, and poured all of the words he couldn’t say into her name. _This isn’t a good idea.  I shouldn’t be in here now.  Not now, when you’re exhausted and beautiful and covered in memories_.

“Please, Bell.  A minute.”

Being asked twice is his physical limit.  Bellamy took off his boots, climbing into the mess of lumpy pillows and blankets beside her.  He had spent plenty of time in her tent over the years and had even dozed here a handful of times when they’d stayed up late discussing something important, but never so close to her.  He felt strange and stiff lying in her intimate space, surrounded by the earthy smell of her—it was a green smell, like some of the salves she used at the clinic, but with undertones of sweat and campfire smoke.  He felt his body start to relax after Clarke pillowed her head on his chest, throwing one leg over him and lacing her fingers in his. It felt comfortable, right.  Eventually, the even sound of her breathing between the warmth of their bodies lulled him to sleep.

* * * * * 

Bellamy woke slowly in the early morning darkness to Clarke’s lips pressed against his neck.  Then her soft mouth was moving over his and he was awake, _oh god he was awake_ , and he was kissing her back. She shifted her weight, one leg thrown over him so that she was half-straddling his hips.  His hands instinctively went to her waist and he held onto her like she might disappear if he let go.  The sunrise was casting hazy light through the lighter patches in the tent when she finally pulled away, leaving both of them gasping for air.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low with warning and desire.  In answer, Clarke shot him a hard look that was somehow still all soft eyes and pulled her shirt over her head in one swift motion.  He skimmed his calloused hands over her ribs and stopped to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs lightly over taut nipples.  She sighed with pleasure, slipping her hands under his thin t-shirt and tugging at it like she wanted it off.  Bellamy's eyes fluttered shut when she rolled her hips, grinding against his hardness. "You like that?" she whispered, moving purposefully back and forth over his length. "Fuck, yes. Do it again," he demanded. She obliged, rubbing against him until his hips bucked up to meet her. "My turn," he said, tightening his grip on her waist. He flipped her over onto her back and kissed her. He loved the way she opened her mouth for him, how soft her skin felt under his rough hands. Bellamy trailed heated open-mouthed kisses from her neck to her chest and teasing one nipple with his tongue until she squirmed and giggled. His shirt and the rest of their clothes made a haphazard pile on the floor.

They were both trembling when he knelt between her knees.  Bellamy kissed the insides of her thighs before fingering the soft wetness between them, looking up to watch her face as he slid one, then two fingers inside.  Her eyes were closed, lips swollen and slightly parted. _God she was beautiful._ She pushed against his hand until he started pumping his fingers, her breath hitching, fingers twisting in the blankets.  His face went hot when she opened her eyes and saw him watching, but he forgot about that when she pulled him down on top of her, kissing him so hard they bumped teeth.  Her fingers .  Clarke’s sharp intake of breath echoed his own, but Bellamy still found himself asking, “you okay, Princess?” in a low voice when he started moving against her, trying his best to be gentle despite the urgent heat building at the base of his cock.

“Mmhmm,” she sighed, pulling his face down for a kiss and raising her hips to meet his thrusts.

He could feel her dull nails pressing into his back as she arched against him.

“Don’t stop,” she groaned, and it wasn’t long before she rewarded him with clenching orgasm that nearly sent him spiraling over the edge.

A fiery heat spread through him, destroying any pretense of gentleness as he thrust into her harder and harder.  “Clarke…oh God, fuck, yes,” Bellamy whispered, pumping his hips at a feverish pace, every part of him straining toward her until he shuddered and came, a hot, throbbing, tingling release.  It felt like touching stars.

They lay in Clarke’s bed, a tangle of limbs surrounded by the smell of their lovemaking, for what seemed like a long time.  But when the birdsong grew louder and pale daylight filtered yellow through the walls of the tent, Clarke got up and started to dress.  Bellamy watched her in silence, wondering where they stood now, wondering how he could go on pretending this hadn’t happened, pretending that he didn’t love her, after the night they’d shared.

“I’ve got to check on Taila,” Clarke’s voice seemed too loud when she broke the awkward silence, dressed now and twisting her hair into a braid.  She tied off her hair and sat on the edge of the cot, leaning over to kiss him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  As if they’d been doing this for years.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”  She smiled then, a real smile that shined in her eyes.  She looked genuinely happy, well-rested even, with a pinkness in her cheeks.  That was what finally put him at ease.

“Nothing,” he grinned, pulling her down into the bed beside him despite her protests.  “Everything’ll be perfect if you come back here when you’re done and eat some breakfast for once.”  He kissed her.  “Just check on her, no one else.”  He kissed her again. “Come right back.”  Kiss.  “Promise?”

“Okay, okay!” She was laughing against his lips, struggling to push him off and sit up.  “I will, I promise, just let me up Bell!”  He relented and she straightened herself, adjusting her twisted shirt.  “Way to crush me,” she complained with a smile, punching him in the shoulder.  She stood and smoothed her hair, pulled her jacket on, and ducked through the tent flap.

A warm feeling bloomed inside his chest as he watched her go.   If he couldn’t get Clarke Griffin to take better care of herself, he’d just have to do it for her.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt from an anonymous tumblr user: "Bellamy finds Clarke asleep in the drop ship and carries her, bridal style, back to her tent. He's surprised when she asks him to stay"
> 
> This started out as a one-shot and turned into a multi-chapter monster. Chapter two is already drafted and will hopefully be up within a week or so. Thanks for reading!


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